


As You Wish

by CaptainErica



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, HP: EWE, dramione - Freeform, from 8th year to a little later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 09:54:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9884660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainErica/pseuds/CaptainErica
Summary: It's always frogs, and it's always midnight, and it's always, always the two of them.





	

“I’m not going in there, it’s _haunted._ ” Draco says, haughty and with the hint of a sneer in his voice. Ron looks like he’s about to argue, say something loud and rude probably (it’s how all of their interactions have been for the last few months during clean-up), but Hermione rolls her eyes.

“So’s the castle, and you lived there for 6 years.” She says, trudging past him, cleaning supplies floating behind her. “It’s not like you were going _alone_ , Malfoy.” She adds, waving her wand when she’s close enough to maneuver a stick into prodding the trick knot in the roots.

Draco watches her walk past him, not moving, but after a moment he seems to decide that it would be better to follow her than stand around with Ron, so he turns and makes his way to the secret door.

~

“Okay, but you admit that searching for frogs in a thunderstorm is an extremely dumb thing to be asked to do, correct?” Draco asks, and Hermione hides a smile behind the eye roll and huff she has perfected over the last few months of school (it’s a combination reserved just for him, Harry just gets the eye roll, Ron the huff).

“I will admit to nothing, Malfoy.” She says, even though he’s absolutely correct. “Grab your pail, then, we’ve got to recapture them before they wreak too much havoc on the grounds.” She adds, sweeping past him toward the Entrance Hall.

He grumbles for a bit, before picking up the pail at his feet and turning to follow her. “We didn’t even let them loose, why are _we_ being punished?” he asks as they head down the stairs and make it to the front doors.

Hermione throws him a look, a little incredulous, a little amused. “You knocked over three tables in your hurry to get out of the classroom.” She says, “or do you not remember that part?” she asks, and maybe she’s teasing just a bit, but she enjoys the way it lights up a little more indignation in his eyes (better than the drained look of tired acceptance that’s normally there).

“Doesn’t explain why _you’re_ here.” He says after a moment of silent pouting.

Hermione shrugs, pushes open the front door and sets her shoulders to prepare for the task ahead. “I’m ever helpful.” She murmurs, before muttering a quick spell to make her clothes water-repellent.

~

“I have a perfectly acceptable family of my own.” Draco says about a week before winter holidays and Hermione doesn’t look up from her textbook.

“I don’t.” she says, and that was a little too straightforward; she’s normally better than that.

Draco graciously ignores it (or doesn’t care, but it’s likely the former). “I don’t see why I have to expand my familial connections.” He continues, and Hermione feels that ‘huff and eye roll’ combo coming on. “I mean, they’re _distantly_ related on my mother’s side, really, I shouldn’t be expected to be friendly with them…”

Hermione looks up at him when he trails off, because this is kind of what she’d been waiting for. “I told you, Malfoy, you’re not the only one without a full family to go back to for hols.” She pulls in a gentle, fortifying breath. “Andromeda is your _actual_ aunt, yeah? She’s going to be there, and so is your mother.” Which is already more legitimate blood family than Hermione will have at the Burrow.

Draco scowls, but it’s not as severe as it could be. “It’s not the same.” He mutters, a little petulant and whiny; a little wistful and regretful.

“We’re adults, Malfoy. There was a war. Nothing is ever going to be _the same._ ”

~

“At least _you_ get to leave at the end of the day.” Hermione huffs out as she presses her back against a rather large tree, wand grasped firmly in her hand.

“You can’t tell me it gets any worse than _this._ ” Draco whines, gesturing down at his snow-covered clothes. He’s not pressed back against the tree though, so when George catches sight of him, it’s only a few seconds before the tree has shed all its snow onto Draco’s head. He lets out a strangled noise of outrage and protest, and Hermione laughs, head tipping back against the trunk of the tree.

“Hermione’s there as well!” Harry yells, hearing the laugh from his position behind George, and Hermione pulls herself together enough to pull away from the tree, sending a quick warming spell at Draco before she takes off in the opposite direction, dodging snowballs as she goes.

~

“So, you all have all the same classes?” Harry asks, tipping back a little in his chair. It’s just the ‘children’ now, all parents and non-Weasleys (barring Harry and Hermione, of course) gone to bed or their own homes.

“No, I mean, we’ve got some separate classes from the proper seventh years, where it’s just us, but we’re mixed in, you know? Taking the classes we want to for the N.E.W.Ts and all that.” Hermione says, waving a dismissive hand.

“She has _every_ class with Malfoy.” Ginny says, leaning over to steal what’s left of the gingerbread cookies from George’s plate (‘keeps him feeling normal, you know? When you treat him like a _human’_ ).

Hermione rolls her eyes, because that makes Ron sit up a little straighter, clearly wanting to hear more. “It’s honestly not all that hard to do.” She says, “I also have every class with Ernie Macmillan.”

Harry scrunches up his nose in distaste. “That’s worse.” He says, and there are mutters of agreement from around the table.

“Malfoy’s been alright this break, yeah?” Ron says, like he wants validation for thinking that Draco wasn’t a giant pile of wet blankets (which he mostly is, honestly).

“When he’s not being a big baby, yeah.” Ginny and George say at the same time, and everyone laughs for a moment before calming down again.

“He talks to Hermione the most, though…” Harry says, and he’s got that face on, the one where he’s concerned but just wants your validation that the world is alright and nothing is ever going to be a problem again.

“Well, we _do_ have every class together, as we just established.” She says, before shrugging. “He complains a lot, but I just picture him as an unfortunate mix of you and Ron, and it helps me struggle through study times.” She says with a grin, and Ginny laughs the loudest when both Harry and Ron sputter in protest.

~

“And _then_ …” Draco says, continuing on with his story. Hermione pulls in a soft breath, book open in her lap as she sits with her knees up on the seat in their compartment on the train. Ginny’s looking at her for some type of support, not certain she really wanted to still be a part of this.

“It sounds like you were _horribly_ mistreated this break.” Ginny says after a while, and Hermione looks up again, blinking a bit. Ginny stands up then, and Hermione feels a little bit of worry pool in the pit of her stomach. “I’ll see you guys at the castle, though, people to see.” She says, with a shake of her head before she slides the compartment door open. “See you later!” She says brightly, and Hermione just barely manages to convince her hand to wave before Ginny’s gone.

“I think she was being sarcastic.” Draco drawls, eyes still on the door as he lounges back in his seat, one knee up with his arm resting on it while the other foot is on the ground.

Hermione breathes out a soft chuckle. “Yes, I do think so.” She says, and Draco turns his eyes on her and they’ve got that look in them…that _bored_ look that is anything _but_ dull to look at.

“You weren’t even listening to me.” He accuses, but there’s no real heat behind it.

“That’s what Ginny was here for.” She says with a shrug, looking back at her book. “To listen to _you._ ” She adds, a little unnecessarily.

Draco scoffs, eyes flashing just a little, but Hermione isn’t looking; she prefers not to look at him when he speaks, it cuts down on the weird flutters in her stomach.

~

“If that’s another job offer then I refuse to sit with you.” Draco says, and Hermione looks up from the letter she’d been reading, breaking her own rule of not looking at him (she breaks it frequently, but it’s always good to remind herself of it when she breaks it).

“It might be, but that hasn’t stopped you from sitting with me for the last 3 months.” She says, looking back down at the letter. It _was_ another job offer, but this one was more promising than the others had been. She doesn’t want to accept anything until after her N.E.W.Ts, though, which makes all the offers a little frustrating.

“Yes, but I’ve decided that this one may well be the last straw, so to speak.” He drawls, pulling the chair out across from her anyway. “You’ve had so many and refuse to choose even _one_ of them; it’s enough to make anyone _scream_ , it is.”

She rolls her eyes and puts the letter down so that she can focus on him properly. “I’ve told you before.” She says, patiently and slowly; like she’s talking to a very disobedient child. “I’m not accepting anything until after I’ve taken the N.E.W.Ts. Honestly, what would have been the point in coming back if I just accepted the first offer that came in?”

Draco rolls his eyes a little, dropping into the chair while she speaks and lounging back in it. He has this way with furniture, where no matter how he sits, it looks regal: _he_ looks regal. It’s disgusting (it’s why she doesn’t look at him).

“No point, obviously.” He says, and he’s teasing, but there’s something else there. She’s seen it before, and she really feels very stupid for not having caught on much earlier; though he honestly probably prefers that she doesn’t say anything, probably thinks that she knew all along.

“Don’t make fun.” She says, pouting just a little, acting slightly cross. It’s the reaction that he wants, and for once she’s giving it to him for free: he’s got no offers, no real potential job prospects, no real friends aside from her and sometimes Harry (and isn’t that really just the ultimate blow?)

He leans forward, grinning now because he likes it when she’s cross with him. “Right, can’t have you upset, can we?” He says, and she wonders at how she ever used to find his voice annoying.

~

“I’m going to _strangle_ whoever let the frogs out again, _I swear it._ ” Hermione says, hair a mess of tangled curls, pajamas disheveled.

Draco throws her a look that she can’t decipher at the moment, but it seems to be a mix of amusement and disgust and about 10 other things and that’s just _so him_ that she doesn’t even want to _try_ to figure it out.

“That’s a little violent, don’t you think?” He asks, arms crossed over his chest as he turns his gaze back to the Entrance Hall. “I mean, at least this time they’re inside.”

She throws him a glare that is much more easily decipherable than the look he’d just given her. “It’s midnight.” She says in a tone that she expects to convey her extreme disgust in the whole situation. “And again it is left to us to clean up.” She adds, turning away from him to push her hand through her messy hair (a vain attempt to control it, really, and barely an attempt at all).

“We’re clearly the best frog hunters at Hogwarts, then.” He says, and it’s almost chipper. The tone of _his_ voice makes her pause, and she turns to look at him. “Come on, let’s get to work, then.” He says, and she feels like she’s in an alternate universe because this _can’t_ be the same Draco Malfoy she walked in here with just minutes ago.

They’re more than halfway done when they meet in the middle of the Great Hall, under the Hufflepuff table of all places. She’s crouched down, wand out with a silvery cage floating beside her (‘they aren’t summonable, or else this would take no time at all and we wouldn’t have to rouse you.’). He’s crouched down as well, being that he’s under the table and just a little bit taller than her. They’re not looking up, they run into each other, and honestly it’s almost comical.

_Almost._

Instead of comical, it’s horribly embarrassing. Hermione’s got one hand up to steady herself against his chest, her wand on the floor beside her, and their faces so close together that she wonders how they’re not already kissing before she backs up a bit to cover for that thought. Her hand drops from his chest a little slower than she’d like, but her other hand is reaching for her wand, so she thinks maybe that will be okay.

“How many more?” He asks when they’ve crawled out from under the table, eyes on anything but each other. She doesn’t like the tone of his voice, it makes her nose scrunch and her stomach drop. It sounds disappointed, but also a little detached, and she doesn’t want that.

~

“Where’s Malfoy?” Ginny asks around the tip of a sugar quill. “He’s better at explaining arithmancy, and he _promised._ ” She says, a small amount of whining spilling into her words.

Hermione bites her lip and looks around the library for a moment before shrugging. “I dunno.” She says, and tries not to sound as annoyed as she feels. “I’ve barely seen him since we rounded up the frogs together two nights ago.” She pouts, then, and Ginny’s eyes light up just a little. “I think he’s avoiding me.”

Ginny tilts her head to the side and pulls the sugar quill from her mouth. She opens her mouth like she’s about to say something, but then her eyes catch on someone behind Hermione and her head tilts back to normal and the quill is returned to her mouth. “Don’t think I’m not going to ask you about that later.” She says, and that’s all the warning Hermione get before Draco is pulling out the chair across from her and dropping his books to the table.

“Arithmancy, yeah?” he asks, shuffling his books around, eyes not lifting up until he’s got the right book, and even then they land on Ginny. “What chapter are you working on?” He asks, and they get to work, then, because there’s no point in asking him where he’d been.

He looks tired, though, and antsy, and Hermione doesn’t like the combination of those things on him; she’d seen them on him before, and that had been a disaster…

~

“ _Another_ job offer, Granger?” Draco drawls, sitting down beside her at the Gryffindor table as it’s early and the Great Hall is empty. “I’m starting to feel unwanted in comparison.” He finishes, and she rolls her eyes as she looks up at him.

“Yes, _another._ ” She says, placing the letter down in front of her. “And you shouldn’t, really, because they’re just desperate for attention; they’re nothing jobs, just people wanting some _spotlight_ shown on them and they think I’ll provide that.” She shakes her head, a soft scowl on her face. “You’ll get job offers when you _apply_ for jobs, like a normal person, which I have apparently stopped being.” Which is tedious, she thinks, still glaring down at the letter.

“Tedious, if you ask me.” Draco says, and that makes a smile twitch at the corners of her lips. “Being normal is clearly superior, especially since you don’t glare at me the way you do all those _not so normal_ things in your life.”

Hermione snorts, rolling her eyes again and looking up at him. It’s been a few days since they’ve spoken comfortably with each other. She refuses to make guesses at the reason, but she knows it has something to do with the flip of her stomach when she makes the mistake of looking at him, and the close encounter under the Hufflepuff table.

“I’m not taking this one, at any rate.” She says, shaking her head after a short moment and looking back down at the letter. “The last one was more promising, anyway.” She adds, and he rolls his eyes but she’s not looking so she doesn’t see it.

~

“Mother thinks you should accept that Ministry job, you know, the promising one?” Draco says, and Hermione rolls her shoulders back as she pulls her head up off the table.

“What?” She asks, and Ginny snores unhelpfully at the table beside them.

Draco pulls in a deep breath and lets it out loudly, as if her response were _painful_ and she should feel bad for it. “That Ministry job, the one that wasn’t awful. You got it a few weeks ago.” He says, like he’s jogging her memory; like she’s some memory-loss patient and he’s an awful, impatient doctor.

“Yes,” She says, blinking away her obvious confusion as she really processes what he’s said. “I know what you’re talking about.” She says, and he nods once before pushing away from the table to lean back in his chair. “But you said your mother thinks I should accept it?” She asks, eyebrows furrowing a little (this means he writes to his mother about her).

“Yes.” He says, and for a moment Hermione thinks he’s going to stop there, but he thankfully doesn’t. “It’s a good foothold, she said. Good way to start the climb to the top. She has a lot of experience, you know, understands the Ministry pretty well.” He says, looking down at his fingernails. He’s half-bragging, and it’s a little amusing because it reminds her of the annoying way he used to lord his wealth and privilege over them when they were younger; it’s less annoying now, but then, so is he.

“It _is_ a good job.” She says, and she’s gnawing at her bottom lip a bit. It’s a habit that reminds her of her parents, of Harry and Ron, of Mrs. Weasley, and she forces herself to stop so that she can continue speaking. “But I shouldn’t accept before my N.E.W.Ts….” It’s a tired excuse, but she’s had it drilled into her, has looked to these exams as the be all end all; proof, if you will, that she could do it.

Draco snorts, a smirk playing on the edges of his lips and Hermione very pointedly doesn’t look at his mouth because she doesn’t want to see it. “They want you now, and they’ll want you after you get 7 N.E.W.Ts. You should write back and tell them you accept and your scores will be available for their assessment soon, or something. Don’t keep them waiting any longer, you deserve that job.”

She feels a look of uncertainty cross over her face, and this is a kind of vulnerable she’s never been in front of Draco. “Well, you’re right, of course.” She forces herself to say, instead of the much more self-conscious ‘Do you really think so?’ that had wanted to force its way out. “I should absolutely not keep them waiting for a response of some kind, what if the opportunity ceases to be?” she says, and Draco very obviously stops himself from rolling his eye, a grin coming to rest on his features very smugly.

“Of course I’m right.” He says, and it’s the reaction she wanted, so she’s pleased to receive it. “You should write the letter now, before you fall back to sleep on your Transfiguration book.” He says, nodding a little toward her bag.

She glares at him a little, which just makes him smile (how like Harry he is that way).

~

“I was right.” Hermione says, and Draco almost snarls in response, but it’s Hermione, so he keeps it to as dignified a pout as he can. “Aw, don’t be like that, you can’t be right all the time.” She says, and if Draco is taken back by her teasing…well he refuses to show it.

“I’m never right, especially not against you.” He says, and maybe he sounds a little petulant, but it’s better than being rude.

Hermione laughs, pushing her hand through her thick hair to get it out of her face as she turns to look at him properly. “Oh honestly,” she starts, grin bright on her face. “Me being right is a good thing. Your prediction was dour and disappointing.” She says, and he rolls his eyes, arms crossing over his chest. She shoves him playfully, and he feels that _feeling_ he gets whenever she touches him; he makes extra sure he’s still pouting so she doesn’t notice.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to be right when you’re wrong at least once.” He says, and she laughs again, standing up and grabbing her bag.

“Maybe so, but then, I think you like it when I win.” She says, and she touches his shoulder gently in parting, and he looks away so that Ginny doesn’t catch him staring (Ginny _always_ catches him staring).

~

Hermione looks up at Draco from her seat beside the Lake, and frowns slightly. “You can’t break up with me, we aren’t dating.” She says. Ginny almost falls over into the water she’s laughing so hard.

Draco huffs, cheeks tinging pink and he knows they are because he can feel them do so. He wishes his cheeks _wouldn’t_ go pink, though, because Hermione might think he was flustered by her remark; he is, but she’s not supposed to _think_ that. “Of _course_ I’m not breaking up with you, don’t be daft.” He says, and she snorts, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear as she looks up at him, expectant now.

“Well? Then what’s all this?” She asks, and he frowns, shifting from foot to foot for a moment.

“We’re leaving Hogwarts soon.” He says, almost like he expects that to mean something immediately before he continues. “We’ll be going back home, and none of us will see each other quite so often. We’ve got _jobs_ and the like.” He says, like this is important, because it is. It’s very important to him that she understand this.

“Yes, and as _adults_ with proper jobs we will make time to see our _friends._ ” She says, and he doesn’t like the emphasis she placed on ‘friends’ but he’ll live through it for the moment.

He sniffs disdainfully. “ _Proper jobs._ ” He says, because he really doesn’t have a ‘proper’ job, he’s got a minor apprenticeship in potions that Hermione had been completely correct about him being able to procure (he’s still upset with her for being right about him). “I’ll be dreadfully bored and have to find _real_ friends who can entertain me while you two are off...” He waves his hand in the air before him instead of finishing the sentence, and it’s Ginny’s turn to scoff and roll her eyes.

“Oh come off it.” She says, standing up and wiping the dirt off her robes. “You’ll be round for Sunday dinner with your mother and aunt every week, mark my words.” She says, and she’s craning her neck and stretching onto tiptoes to look out and around. “Ah, I’ve got to go talk to Luna, she’s got news, apparently.” She says, and Hermione snorts softly, only a little derisive (Draco enjoys that, likes that she respects Luna despite not agreeing with her on almost _everything_ ).

“Tell me later if it’s anything good?” Hermione asks, and Ginny grins at her, before saluting Draco and hopping off to meet Luna halfway. “Ginny’s not wrong.” She adds after a moment, turning back to look up at him, eyes squinting a little in the sunlight now as he’s moved a little closer.

“It’s different.” He says, adamant.

“Only if you want it to be, Draco.” She says, and she sounds wise. It’s times like these that he wonders if he really deserves this, deserves to even consider…

“Well of _course_ I don’t, Granger.” He says, a little huffy, distancing himself with her last name like a see-through shield. “You’ll just be so busy being famous and important, I’ll have to be terrible just to get any attention at all.” He drawls, and she rolls her eyes, smiling amusedly up at him.

“You’re _always_ terrible, Draco, don’t think for a second you aren’t.”

~

“Listen, if even _I’ve_ noticed…” Harry says, pushing his glasses up his nose just a touch.

Hermione rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest for good measure. “Ginny said something to you, clearly.” She says, and Harry shakes his head, and the honesty in his too-large eyes is enough to convince her that he’s not lying about that. “Alright, so maybe he _does…_ ”

“What, Hermione’s noticed Malfoy’s got the hots for her?” George asks, settling against the counter. They had gone into George’s shop to get out of the sun and away from the parents out for a day now that it’s September 2nd and all their children are off at Hogwarts.

It feels, suddenly, like the worst idea they’ve ever had (especially if this conversation continues).

“I don’t know _what_ you’re talking about.” She says, trying for slightly offended, and only managing to make George and Harry exchange the least covert glance ever to have been exchanged in her presence or anyone else’s.

“Listen,” George starts, leaning forward just a little in that way that makes _you_ want to lean forward as well. She resists the urge to lean forward. “He’s a strange bloke, I’ll give you that.” He continues, and Hermione rolls her eyes, turning her head away and toward the front of the shop where she can see out the windows. “But he’s got good taste, obviously, and he’s not all that bad _now._ ” He finishes, and Hermione almost rolls her eyes again, but she catches a flash of white-blonde hair out the window and turns away forcefully.

“Oh.” She says, and it’s echoed in different tones by both Harry and George (who look at each other again, but this time she’s averting her gaze so it’s not so clear).

The chime over the door goes off, footsteps move closer…

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” A _very_ familiar voice drawls. Harry’s lips curl up into an amused grin as Draco drops his hand to Hermione’s shoulder by way of silent greeting. “Potter and a Weasley, who’d have guessed…” He says, and it makes Harry chuckle, hand coming up to shake Draco’s free one, before George does the same (albeit George is a lot more enthusiastic, a little more dramatic).

“Thought you had research all day!” George booms, boisterous suddenly, and Hermione turns back to them because this change in mood can only be bad (for her).

“Did…Do, but decided on a bit of a break.” Draco says, hand dropping slowly from Hermione’s shoulder (it was there for quite a while, oh no, she hadn’t greeted him). “Decided I might enjoy a bit of a walk and then saw you three through the window…”

“And decided to ruin our collective day?” George asks, sweet as can be, and Hermione rolls her eyes.

“That’s not very kind, he might not have intended to ruin anything.” She says, not unkindly.

Draco chuckles, turning his eyes on her, a little smirk playing about his lips. “No, it wasn’t my intention.” He says, and maybe it’s the way they’d been talking just before Draco came in, or maybe it’s just really true, but she thinks there’s something else there…something that she’s been ignoring just as dutifully as the twisting in her stomach whenever she meets his eyes.

The moment is gone quickly, though, because George has a joke to tell, and a product to test, and Hermione has much better things to do with her time then dwell on whether or not Draco Malfoy might have a bit of a crush on her.

~

“You’ll have to ask _him,_ honestly.” Ginny says, and Luna makes a light noise of agreement.

“I’m sorry, who?” Hermione asks, and she really needn’t have because she _knows_ who, but she’d been in the middle of eating…

Ginny rolls her eyes and sits forward a bit. “Malfoy.” She says, before flicking her hair over her shoulder. “You’ll have to ask him out, he’s a right coward.” She says, and Hermione bristles just a bit in his defense.

“He’s not a, not a _coward_ Ginny, that’s not very nice.”

“He _is_ though, you said so yourself.” Luna says, her airy, dreamy voice sounding like it’s floated in from somewhere else to be part of the conversation. “I remember you saying he was a coward.” She says, and Ginny had turned to look at her, smiling and nodding before turning back to Hermione.

“She’s right, you absolutely did.”

“Yes, well I also called him a ‘foul, loathsome, evil, little cockroach’ so…” Hermione mutters, and Ginny laughs, bright an airy.

“It makes it all that much better, really. Now go on. He’ll be at the bookshop around now, yeah?” Ginny says, and Hermione fights both a blush and a pout, and shakes her hair out of her face as she fixes Ginny with a _look._

“If I didn’t know better I’d say _you_ liked him. What, are you following him around?” Hermione asks, and Ginny laughs while Luna smiles softly beside her.

“You’re stalling. Also, everyone knows where Draco goes, he moans about it all the time; about how _boring_ and _difficult_ his poor life is.” Ginny says, shooing Hermione up. “You were done eating anyway. Hurry along.”

~

“I didn’t know the Weasley’s owned frogs.” Draco drawls, and Hermione can’t see him from where she’s glaring down at the ground from atop a table, but he’s absolutely staring at his nails and pretending to be unaffected.

“Yes, well, they do.” She says, a little waspish.

He makes a tutting noise, shifting a little before leaning his shoulder against the doorframe. “No need to get snippy.” He says, and she looks over at him; hair a little wild, eyes slits, mouth flat and unamused.

“I’d rather thought,” She starts, shifting on the table until she can move out of her crouch so she’s sitting properly, legs dangling over the edge. “that I’d no longer find myself rounding frogs up at midnight with you now that we were _actual_ adults.” She almost hisses, and he actually laughs (he likes it when you’re mad, you know that). “No get over here, and gather them up. You’ve got your wand, haven’t you?” She asks, bossy and straight to the point.

Draco’s eyes glitter a little, and he smirks. “Bossing me around now, Granger?” He asks, and she hears the tone of his voice, but doesn’t heed the potential outcomes it suggests.

“Yes, of _course._ ” She says, snapping just a little at him, but it’s not _real_ anger, she’s just embarrassed at being caught up on a table over a silly group of frogs at midnight. “I’m bossy, remember?” She asks, and he chuckles softly, coming closer, though she’s stopped looking at him (that look on his face makes her stomach flip).

“As you wish, then.” He says, and she’s glad she’s not looking at him anymore because he probably did an infuriating little _bow._ He catches them all, quick and easy, and then holds out a hand to her to help her down off the table. “I’ll clean up the mess you made, as well; no need to tell me to.” He says, and she rolls her eyes, stomping her foot just a bit (but she’s smiling, he’s good at that).

“I’ll get it…” She protests, but he’s already done it, and it was a half-hearted protest at best because she _knew_ he’d get it before she could respond. They’re close, now, very close to each other and she wonders, faintly, distantly if this will be it; if this is when they’re finally going to stop dancing around this attraction they seem to have for one another.

“A little birdy told me you were going to ask me out the other day.” He says, conversational but yet also almost like he’s tattling.

“Did the little birdy have red hair? Answer to the name Ginny?” She asks, and he grins a little, shrugging.

“Can’t really say, I’m not in the business of checking out little birds that tell tales…” He’s dancing around the topic, and Hermione feels a soft laugh bubble up.

“Coward.” She says, soft and teasing.

“You’re the one who didn’t ask me out.” He says, almost accusatory, instantly a little defensive.

She laughs again, hands coming up to brush at his shoulders, then press light against his chest before dropping away. “Once, maybe, though you can’t prove if I actually intended to or not.” She says, backing away a bit, teasing smile on her lips. “How many times have _you_ not asked _me?_ ” She asks, innocent eyes looking up at him as she backs away just a bit further.

“Hey now, that’s not fair!” He says, stepping closer, following her. She laughs, staying out of his reach.

“Until you find the courage, Draco.” She says, a little serious, but there’s fondness there, and she can see him catch it, see it register. “I know you’ve got it in there somewhere.”

~

“Go to the Ball with me, Hermione.” Draco says, and Hermione looks up, surprised to see him standing there.

“Draco!” she says. “Oh, you startled me.”

“Obviously.” He says, pulling out the seat beside her at her table in the café and sitting down. “Back to the matter at hand…” He says, pointed, willing her to focus.

“Oh, yes, well…”

He narrows his eyes at her, waits a moment, but when she seems to not have anything to say immediately… “Well? I’m asking you to go to the Ball with me, at the Ministry, as my date.”

Hermione makes a soft noise, then chuckles slightly. “I’m sorry, I must have missed the _asking_ part there; all I got was the demand…” she says, eyebrows raised.

Draco rolls his eyes and looks away from her for a moment before looking back. “Will you come with me, as my date, to the Ball?” He asks, almost forcing it out (he’s worried, though, it’s hiding just behind his eyes).

“I’d love to, Draco.” She says.

His mouth is already open, ready to protest, to argue, to convince, and he blinks, then tilts his head a little. “Oh.” He says, and she giggles, this time and reaches out to place a hand over his on the table.

“Now _you’re_ the one who’s startled, hm?” She asks. She pats his hand gently. “I was always going to say _yes._ ”

~

“She was always going to say yes, you know.” Harry says, and Draco gives him a dark look while Ginny laughs, arm through Harry’s.

“George lost this one, said Hermione’d have to ask.” Ron says, leaning in close like he doesn’t want anyone else to hear. “Pretty upset he called it so wrong, he is.”

Draco straightens his robes, and shakes his hair out of his eyes. “Yes, well.” He says, and they all laugh (it’s at him, but it’s with him, and so _what_ if his cheeks go a little pink).

“Are you all picking on Draco again?” Hermione asks, coming up beside them, hand coming to rest at Draco’s elbow; comfortable, like it belongs there.

“Never!” They chorus, laughing loudly at each other now.

“Oh yes, clearly.” She says, eyes turning to Draco. “Come along, _fiancée._ ” She says, starting them all up laughing again. “Let’s go enjoy ourselves, yeah?”

“As you wish.”


End file.
